Club Ocella
by RheyaKelvin
Summary: What if Eric had never left Ocella's side? What kind of Vampire would have he become? What if Sookie met him in tragic circumstances and developed a vendetta against him? Dark/Angsty.
1. Foreword

**A Note of Warning**

_Club Ocella_ was my entry to the Indie Fic Competition, for which it won 1st place in the Judging contest and 2nd place with the Public Vote.

For those of you who follow my other story_ The Watcher_, be warned that _Club Ocella_ bears no similarity whatsoever with _The Watcher_.

It is a **very dark story** that touches on extremely **mature themes** (bereavement, S&M, gang violence). There is no rape in this story but **some scenes might be disturbing** to the more delicate sensibilities. The Eric in this story has never left his Maker's side and is a very different Vampire than what we are used to as a result.

I am most grateful to **Vic** and **Fairyblood**, to all the people who have voted for me and especially to my Beta **All About Eric**.


	2. Day 1

**Day One: Walking In**

**SPOV**

As the last rays of the sun were engulfed by the horizon, I lay sprawled on my bed, my eyes staring vacantly at minute stains on the ceiling. How I did love sunset; that special juncture of the day when sunlight died and the blackness of the night overtook the city, refining shadows, reshaping buildings, awaking the dark lust and desires people kept hidden deep within themselves during the day, lending an air of danger and excitement to every street corner. For the past year, nighttime had become my only space of unhindered self-expression; the only time when I was free to shed the mask of politeness and normalcy I was forced to put on every morning, for the benefit of my fellow human beings.

Soon after my life had crashed and shattered in a million shards, I had began noticing the small adjustments people made once they left the workplace, after a full day of productivity and carefully orchestrated social interactions. At night, manners mattered less, it seemed. A smile was no longer considered a gesture of civility, but an invitation of sorts, and so was eye contact. Handshakes or greetings were no longer extended, unless you were at a bar or some other type of meat-market, playing a game of seduction that usually ended in rejection or sweaty release. Sexual attractiveness became the universal currency, more so than money or social status, as men and women prowled for a lover, a companion, a new friend, anyone who would make them feel less alone. Even the ones who appeared contented, rushing home to a welcoming family and a warm meal, even they felt the frenzy, the temptation, the unrest, if only for a short while. The night held its special magic, and it affected every single one of us.

At night, monsters were free to roam. I knew that better than anyone; I had met them.

My life had ended almost a year ago, after dark, in a poorly lit backstreet of New York City. It had been my son Finn's sixth birthday, and I had treated him to an early performance of the Nutcracker at the Metropolitan Opera. Buying the tickets had been a splurge, and I had been worried that Finn would be too young to appreciate the setting and entertainment, but he had sat quietly on my knees all through the performance, fascinated by the dancers. Afterwards, we had gone to a pizzeria for a feast of tomato sauce and melted cheese. The night had been chilly and Finn's eyes had become heavy with sleep so I had decided to take a short cut to the subway station for the ride home. The narrow passage was dark but would save us fifteen minutes over the time it would take if we used the main streets, and I had wanted home as soon as possible. I had checked the surroundings for human brains (oh, did I forget to mention that I am a telepath?) and, when I had been confident the alley was empty, I had taken my son in my arms and had hurried through. I knew I had made a terrible mistake as soon as I heard the ominous roar of multiple engines and saw the motorcycles slowing down to a stop at the end of the street, blocking the way out. I had turned around and backtracked my steps only to find the other exit blocked by another group of motorcycles. Dread overtook me as I realized I was trapped. I had no illusion that help would come for us; this was New York City after all, and a cry in the night was rarely heard or even acknowledged.

The bikers had dismounted from their machines and had been silently closing in on me from both sides. For some reason, their minds were sealed off to me, so I could not read their intentions, but I knew what happened to silly women who wandered in deserted alleys. Cradling Finn close my chest, urging him to stay quiet and sheltering him as best I could against the cold and the impending danger, I had cowered against a garbage bin and prayed. _Please God, whatever happens to me, don't let any harm come to Finn; please God, not my baby._

The first group of bikers had reached us and, to my surprise, had carried on in their path without so much as a glance in our direction. I had gingerly bent forward to appraise the situation and it had become apparent that I had unwittingly stumbled into the middle of some sort of gang confrontation. I noticed that the two groups of bikers were outfitted in similar leather gear but that the decorations and insignia varied between the two sides. It was too dark to distinguish the finer details but, as one of the bikers closer to me walked under the light of one of the few streetlamps, I saw the brief flash of an intricate skull embroidered on the back of his jacket. A _fanged_ skull. Vampires! This explained why I had not been able to 'hear' them.

Despite my shaky legs and my terror, I had lifted myself from the floor and had attempted to escape while the Vampires were otherwise preoccupied. I had almost reached the row of bikes when a Vampire had appeared in front of me. He was Native-American, with long black hair and thick fangs descending from his open mouth. Finn had cried out in fear as I stumbled backwards.

"Where do you think you're going, bloodbag?" The Vampire had spit, before grabbing me by the arm and throwing me back against the bin.

I had felt the bones in my arm and knee snap on impact and had heard Finn scream as his head connected with the hard ground. Scrambling towards my son, I howled as I saw blood flowing freely from a gash on his forehead. The Vampire had smiled greedily and licked his lips in a way that had made my blood churn. Before he could grab Finn, however, he had been distracted by the sound of a commotion deeper within the alley and had zoomed away. Unable to stand or run away, I had crawled towards the exit, while pressing my hand onto Finn's wound, as hard as I could. I could hear the roars and crashing sounds of the battle raging behind me but had not turned around, only focusing on saving my son's life. By then, he had slipped into unconsciousness and my attempts to rouse him were unsuccessful. When I reached the end of the alley, my face and chest were covered in his blood and my body was in too much pain for me to find the strength to climb over the motorcycles. I had rolled on my back, holding Finn to my chest, and screamed in despair.

Another Vampire had then appeared. He was immensely tall, his long blond hair dripping in blood and other residues, his features sharp and cruel. I had begged him for his help, I had offered him all I possessed - my own life if he wanted it - if he would only save my son, but I had only been met by his cold and unfeeling gaze. Those eyes were as dead as he was, and have haunted me ever since. Bending towards me, he slowly raised a hand. I did not even register his blow before I lost consciousness.

I awoke from a coma six days later, only to be informed that Finn had died the night we had been brought into the hospital. An anonymous Good Samaritan had left us in front of the emergency entrance before speeding away, and I would never know whether my son had bled to death in that dark alley or on the car seat of the unknown rescuer.

The days following Finn's death merged into a blur of police interviews, funeral receptions, condolences and solicitous friends. After two months on autopilot, I had returned to society and done what was expected of me: I ate, I slept, I went to work, I filled out my tax reports, I smiled, I said hello, I laughed when others did. I had become a spectator of my own life, observing numbly from a corner of my consciousness the pointless spectacle of human activity. All those people who went about their day, busying themselves and acting like it all made sense… it was all so ridiculous. Sometimes, I would laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all. It was after such an episode that my friend and boss, Hoyt, had taken me aside and handed me the business card of his psychotherapist, Lafayette Reynolds. Lafayette had been a great help: he had convinced me to start with anti-depressants and brought me back from the brink; not enough for me to start living again, but enough so that I had regained the will to exist. And exist I did, but only at night, when the masks fell off and people's true nature was exposed.

My search for the bikers who had murdered my son began eight months after his death. I had emerged for my emotional numbness and was ready to take my revenge. The police had been useless; they hadn't found any trace of the confrontation in the passage – of course they hadn't – and the two Vampires I had described had not matched anybody on record – of course they hadn't. It took me very little time to realize that the officers on the case had been either glamoured or bribed into burying the 'incident', and even my attempts at rousing the interest of the press had led nowhere, for the same reasons. After two weeks of apathetic investigation, the case had been closed.

It took me one month to track down the 'fanged skull' gang; one frustrating month of haunting seedy bars and drug-den nightclubs, but I finally found what I was looking for. They called themselves _The Column_ and their HQ was an S&M club named _Club Ocella_, or_ Club O_, for the regulars. Both the Native-American and the blond giant belonged to that gang, the blond being apparently the leader. Once their base had been located, gathering information on both _The Column_ and _Club Ocella _had proven surprisingly easy. For the next three months, I had hovered around the club, observing the coming and going of the regulars, methodically plucking at the brains of the human patrons and forming a strategy. Tonight, at last, my plan would be put in motion.

When I arrived at _Club O_, it was a little after 9 p.m. The club was closed to the public, as it was every Monday; but, to the initiated, Mondays were known as Casting Call Nights. I passed the large iron doors of the main entrance and carried on walking along the side of the building until I reached a dirty-looking door marked 'Stage Entrance'. A few seconds after I had knocked, a blond Vampire opened the door. He was just a boy, maybe 16 when he had been turned, but he exuded an air of such malevolence that my self-preservation instincts screamed at me to run. I instinctively lowered my eyes, in part to avoid giving him an opportunity to try his glamour on me, and in part to gather myself. Without being prompted, I recited the password I had stolen from the minds of the other applicants:

"I who am about to die salute you."

Leave it to a Vampire to come up with a password that sounded like a line from a Russell Crowe movie. The blond goon opened the door wider and allowed me to enter. I could feel his intense gaze following me as I stepped inside a room that shocked me by its banality. It resembled the waiting area of a doctor's office, all white paint and plastic chairs. Before I could take a seat next to the three other women and one man already waiting, the Vampire roughly grabbed my arm, forcing me to spin round. With a grunt, he jerked his chin towards a sign on the wall. It read:

_No Silver_

_No Wood_

_No Weapons_

I showed him the contents of my small purse and silently gritted my teeth while he frisked me. When he was satisfied that I carried no dangerous material, he released me and allowed me to sit down. Of all the applicants, I was the only one not dressed in goth gear. I already knew that, if I were selected, the clothes I came in would be irrelevant, as I would be given a 'uniform', as all the Slaves were. Yes, _Slaves_. This was the position I was applying for. I had learned early during my reconnaissance rounds that there were only two types of humans who were allowed in _Club O_: the tourists, who were parked in the bar in the front room, only allowed to glimpse the Vampires as they came and went through the Red Door, beyond which the real action was taking place; and then there were the Slaves.

The Slaves, as their name indicated, were the submissive humans who populated the S&M floor of the club. They were recruited among the general Fangbanger population and noted for their willingness to bear the most humiliating situations. Every time I had dipped into the minds of these sad creatures, as they exited the club in the early hours of the morning, I had recoiled with disgust at the depth of their depravity. And yet, here I was, humbly applying for the privilege of becoming a Vampire chew toy, among other things. Not any Vampire, though. I had one specific target in mind, and I knew the only way I would be able to approach him close enough to kill him would be on my knees.

So a Slave I would be.

One by one, the other applicants were called into the adjacent room, the blond goon following each time. All came out in tears: they had been rejected. Finally, my turn came, and I was escorted into an office as plain as the waiting area. There, a red-haired Vampire in a professional blue pantsuit, looking as young or younger even than the blond one, was sat on a plush chair. On the desk in front of her, a desk plate read _Sophie-Anne Leclerq_. I knew her to be the _Mistress of Ceremonies _of _Club O_, the one who reigned over the stable of Slaves with a perverse gleefulness. There was no extra chair for me to sit on so I stood where I was and kept my eyes lowered. I could feel Sophie-Anne's eyes roaming over me, undressing and evaluating me. After a long moment, she declared:

"You are not a Fangbanger."

It wasn't a question so I offered no answer; I knew better than speak without invitation.

"Have you brought your identification?"

I handed over my driver's license, still not uttering a word. After examining it, she handed it back before filling in some paperwork. I didn't know what silent exam I had passed, but I knew my candidature had been accepted. Sophie-Anne flipped the stack of stapled sheets she had just been filling in at me and ordered:

"Sign these."

"What does it say?" I asked, speaking for the first time.

"It says that we own you."

I raised my eyes at her statement and saw that she was smirking cruelly. Before I could detach my gaze, I felt a pressure at the back of my mind: she was attempting to glamour me. I panicked, as it was the one thing I absolutely needed to avoid. I could not be glamoured and I was certain that, if this were discovered, I would immediately be dismissed. I decided to try and bluff my way out of this impasse. Keeping my stare as vacant as possible, I stared back at her in silence.

"Are you a cop?" she asked.

"No," I replied neutrally.

"Are you a spy for the _Children of Death_?"

"No." What an idiotic name.

"Are you planning on harming the Vampire patrons in any way?"

"No." Be still, my heart.

She 'released' me and I pretended to be dazed for a few seconds, then I signed the release papers. She thoroughly checked that everything was in order before handing me a duplicate of the documents.

"One more thing," she declared, while nodding to the blond Vampire, who had been silently observing the proceedings from a corner of the office.

He zoomed next to me and, without any kind of warning, grabbed my right hand and punctured one of my fingers with his fang. As soon as my blood touched his tongue, his pupils dilated widely and his fangs elongated even further. Before I could react, he was lunging at my neck but, as fast as the attack started, it was over, and my assailant was lying flat on his back, the diminutive female Vampire holding him to the floor.

"André, calme-toi!"

I recognize the language as French, but I didn't understand the words or the subsequent conversation they had. After their exchange ended, Sophie-Anne let him go and gave me a strange look, but I was too stunned to think anything of it. Andre exited the room and Sophie-Anne calmly instructed:

"Be here tomorrow at 10.30 p.m. exactly. For now, there are only three rules you need to be aware of. Do not speak unless spoken to. Female Vampires must be addressed as Domina, male Vampires as Dominus. And lastly, keep your eyes down at all times. Anything else, you will learn soon enough."

And just like that, I was dismissed. No apology, not even an acknowledgement of the fact that I had just been almost killed; but I guess I would need to get used to that real fast. As I passed Andre on my way out, he eyed me with a look that evenly mixed greed and hatred. That too, I would need to get used to.

Back in my flat, I leaned against my door and I heaved a long sigh of relief. Phase one was complete, now onto the hunt.


	3. Day 2

**Day Two: Dominus**

**SPOV**

As I stood before the door, I traced over the chunky plastic letters with my extended finger.

F

This part of the day was always the hardest, when I readied myself to enter my son's bedroom to mourn and remember.

I

Everything had been left as it had been the night Finn last set foot in here. The little bits of Lego strewn across the floor; the tidily piled-up boxes of toys that had fallen out of favour; the teddy bear he still slept with in secret, despite his protestations of being a 'big boy, now'.

N

His wardrobe was still filled with his winter clothes; his favourite pair of red boots that he had grown too big for but would not allow me to discard; the _Transformers_ quilt set, still dented where he had jumped up on the bed, in a moment of exuberance. The snapshot of a life.

N

I turned the doorknob and pushed open the door. The moonlight reflected on the white walls giving the room an eerie air, as if the scene were not real, but a clever trompe-l'oeuil fresco. After a pause, I took a tentative step forwards. For a few moments, I allowed the pain and grief to flood me, to seep into the tiniest cracks of my emotional shell and to dominate me completely.

And then, after thoroughly soaking in my misery, I shut out all feelings, and steeled myself for the evening ahead. I stepped out of Finn's room and headed towards my own bedroom to begin my transformation.

The crowd was still thin around _Club O _when I arrived at 10.30 p.m. as instructed. Andre escorted me from the stage entrance into _Club O_'s backstage room, his malevolent gaze never leaving me. There, I found Sophie-Anne leaning against a wall, silently observing the two Slaves standing in front of her. She was in full Mistress mode: gone were the smart pant-suit and air of respectability, and in their place was a blood-red leather corset and skirt outfit, with spiked heels adorning her feet.

I quickly glanced at the 'competition': there was a thin young man, exquisitely beautiful to the point of being pretty, his long dark hair falling around his face like a silky curtain as he bent his head; the other one was a tall black woman, her body sculpted like that of a track racer, exuding power and feline grace, her face an arresting blend of angles and plump flesh and her eyes the deepest black. Both were exceptionally attractive, in their own unique way, and both were stark naked.

My evaluation done, I returned my gaze towards the deceptively young-looking Vampire. She was now staring at me and quirked an eyebrow at the bobbed red wig I was sporting, but did not comment otherwise. For a few seconds, I held her gaze, until I saw a smirk forming at the corner of her mouth. I immediately lowered my eyes, but I knew I had not been fast enough. She stalked towards me and stopped mere inches away. I could feel her hair grazing against my chin as she leaned in and spoke low in my ear:

"Such impertinence."

Her tone was scolding yet tinged with glee: I had misbehaved and she was relishing the prospect of exacting a punishment from me. I kept silent, staring at my feet, my face a mask. Leaning closer, she added in a voice vibrating with excitement:

"You are a proud Slave, aren't you?"

She giggled girlishly.

"I will enjoy disciplining you."

She paused, then leaned back and ordered:

"Get naked."

Without a word, I discarded my clothes, folding them hurriedly onto an empty chair, then lined up beside the other Slaves. Sophie-Anne remained still for a few minutes, then began pacing in front of us. When she spoke, her voice was bored and flat:

"You have been selected out of dozens of candidates to serve your betters on hands and knees . You were deemed the worthiest among the worthless and, tonight, you will be put to the test." She paused. "Perform well, and you may earn the privilege of a bite. Fail, and you will be _mine_."

She had stoped in front of me to utter those last words.

Finally, she instructed us to put on our uniforms. The garments were placed in individual boxes, each sporting a different Slave's name, on a large vanity table. I found mine and extracted a bra and panties set. I tried not to think of the other people who might have worn those very garments before I quickly put them on. I slid the panties on first: they were made of shiny black leather and were split at the base; not enough to expose my intimacy, but enough to guarantee easy access. The bra, made of the same material, was a half-cup design. While it was in theory to my size, it did not cover my nipples. The message was clear: I was on probation, to be sized-up and rated by my 'betters' while my body was laid all but bare.

Once 'dressed', I returned to my previous position, my eyes lowered. In my peripheral vision, I could see that the other female Slave had been outfitted in a similar outfit to mine, and the male Slave was wearing a red leather bikini brief. As it was our first night, we had been allowed to select our own hairstyle and make-up, but I knew that this last freedom would be taken away when we became full-fledged Slaves. Sophie-Anne reviewed our appearance one last time, with the diligence of an army sergeant, before stepping back.

"Now, what do you say to your Mistress?"

With one voice, all three of us answered:

"Domina."

We were escorted onto the main floor, which was still empty this early in the night. I risked a glance around me: the room was spacious, yet strangely oppressive. The thick red carpet was comfortably soft against my bare feet, but I knew that all concept of comfort would soon be forgotten if I was made to crawl on it on my knees all evening, like some Slaves were forced to. The high ceiling and three of the walls were covered in red velvet. One wall was entirely made of large mirrors, which I knew to be one-way glass. Beyond these glass doors were the private playrooms, with their endless supply of toys and torture accessories to excite the sickest mind. The side of the room we were headed towards had a set of alcoves, dug straight into the wall. This is where the newest Slaves spent their first two hours at _Club O_, exhibited as would be the star attractions on an auction block.

One by one, we were made to climb into the recesses. There, Sophie-Anne tied my wrists with the leather cuffs hanging from the ceiling of the alcove, until my arms were secured above my head. From my new vantage point, I could see the black lacquered tables around which the patrons would soon sit. I took a deep breath, lowered my eyes once more, and waited.

As the minutes went by, the room progressively filled, with the more seasoned Slaves first, then their Vampire masters. The two other recruits and I were studiously ignored during the first hour, a clear ploy to make us feel worthless and shatter our self-confidence, then the Vampires began to stroll leisurely in front of our individual alcoves, appraising us in silence. At the end of the second hour, they would have their pick of the fresh meat, in order of seniority.

I had to will my breath to remain steady when the Vampire I was hunting approached me. He was the Native-American, the one who had struck the killing blow, and he was watching me intently. I already knew he would select me: he loved women exclusively, and redheads above all, and I was the only new choice tonight to fit his taste. I wasn't worried he might recognize me: between the wig and the heavy make-up I was sporting, I doubted my own mother would have. I had learnt that Longshadow, as he was called, was the second-in-command, and as such had first pick. His superior in the hierarchy, the tall blond Vampire only known as 'The Master' – unlike most other Vampires, he did not even share his name with his Slaves, so I had not been able to learn it from their minds – never shown an interest in the new Slaves.

Finally, after an agonising wait, a gong resonated, marking the end of the two hours gauging session. Longshadow immediately zoomed in front of my alcove, marking his selection. I was internally gleeful - my prey had taken the bait - but my triumph was short lived as Sophie-Anne abruptly appeared next to the Vampire and declared:

"The Master has chosen this one."

Longshadow snarled in frustration but retreated at once, and I felt panic rise in my chest. This was not what I had planned: I had never expected to catch the eye of The Master. All of my strategy had been centred around luring Longshadow to his final death. He was a sloppy and over-confident Vampire, often bringing back Slaves to his lair after _Club O_ had closed for the night, sometime allowing them to stay during the day, providing them with many chances to stake him. I had hoped to become one of his favourites, to become a pet, so I could get close enough to be granted the privilege of an overnight stay (and thus the opportunity to end him).

All these carefully laid plans were upset by The Master's unexpected decision to single me out. Unlike Longshadow, he was secretive to the point of paranoia: he never brought Slaves back to his resting place, never took pets, never turned his back on a human, and he was so immensely powerful that even other Vampires feared him. He was impossible to kill, and I had already surrendered hope of exacting vengeance on him.

As I was released from my restraints, my arms sagged to my side, my shoulders aching after having been forced into an uncomfortable position for two hours straight, then I was led toward the central platform, where The Master ruled over his depraved little kingdom. The platform, a circular stage, was completely surrounded by a curtain made of black leather fringes, so that The Master was never seen. I wouldn't even have noticed his arrival earlier in the evening, had it not been for the silence that momentarily spread in the room as he took his seat.

Sophie-Anne parted the curtain and urged me in. Trembling, I took a few tentative steps then waited, my eyes firmly fixed to the floor. She was gone in a flash and I was left alone with the scariest Vampire in all of New York.

Through my peripheral vision, I could only discern two large boots – the largest I had ever encountered – and a portion of his black leather pants. Judging by the sturdiness and ornamentation of the legs of his chair, he was seated on a throne. I remained immobile, waiting for an order or a dismissal, for what seemed forever. Eventually, his husky and commanding voice rose:

"Take it off."

I stood transfixed, both by the sound of his voice, whose timbre had me quivering with unexpected yearning, and by my confusion as to what he was referring too. My bra? My panties? I held my position, hoping he would elaborate but, when no further instruction came, I risked a glance upwards.

In the few seconds it took me to look up then back down, I found out that he was wearing a black leather vest, in the same matte material as his pants; that his forearms were entirely covered with black leather cuffs, that his right hand was gloved and holding what looked like a rod of some sort while his left hand was bare; that his shoulder-length blond hair had been left loose around his face, and that he was staring at my head. I thought fast and reached a decision.

Gingerly, I raised a hand and took hold of my wig. I tentatively pulled at it and, when he raised no objection, I slid it all the way off and tousled my natural blonde mane until it had cascaded around my shoulders, then I dropped the offending prosthesis on the floor. After a pause that stretched unpleasantly, his masterful voice rose again:

"What is your name?"

This was the test; the question whose answer separated the wannabe from the true-blue. A bad answer would send you to Sophie-Anne's dungeon, for 'schooling'. Luckily, I knew the correct answer, as gleaned from the minds of the seasoned Slaves.

"My name is Slave, Dominus," I replied in a quivering voice.

This was already getting too much for me. The Master's presence was unnaturally over-bearing. His aura filled the small space completely, leaving me feeling crushed under the weight of his charisma, and I was near losing my balance, or worse, fainting.

"Are you here to serve me, Slave?" came the unendurable voice.

I nodded, incapable of speech.

"You have to do better than that, Slave."

His tone was flat, yet full of menace. I gulped and, with great effort, uttered:

"Only if it pleases you, Dominus."

Ritual questions, and ritual answers. This was the easy part. So why did I feel like throwing up?

"Come, Slave. Kneel at the feet of your Master."

A single nod, then a verbal acknowledgement:

"Dominus."

**EPOV**

I had smelt her as soon as I had stepped into the club: a heavenly, delicate scent; sweeter than the mead I used to drink as a human, yet potent, even amid the reek of sex, arousal and sweat pervading the room.

Sophie-Anne has forewarned me that she had something special on offer tonight, a new addition whose blood had made her child Andre go mad with bloodlust and, as soon as her fragrance hit me, I knew that she was the one. I did not usually show interest in new recruits as I preferred leaving to others the tedious job of breaking in the Slaves but, for her, I would make an exception.

When she had been brought, I had been startled by her appearance: she looked clean, almost innocent, her curves so unlike the used and abused hard bodies I was accustomed to. She was no Fangbanger, just as Sophie-Anne had said, and yet, there she was. She knew all the ritual answers and yet there was no hunger to please behind her words. Whereas the Slaves that were brought to me always arrived dripping with arousal, verging on climax just at the prospect of being in my presence – a rare privilege – she was dry. She had responded beautifully to my voice, but fear and confusion were her prevalent emotions. She was a contradiction.

As she knelt at my feet, her eyes trained on my boots and her beautiful hair framing her face, I caught myself wondering what her lips would taste like. It had been centuries since I had last kissed anyone (the intimacy repulsed me), yet I felt the overwhelming urge to sample that human.

"Look at me, Slave," I commanded.

She shivered deliciously at my voice and hesitated briefly before she raised her eyes. I was caught off balance by what I saw in them: pure, unadulterated hatred, such as I saw in the eyes of my enemies before I slew them. Then, as our stare-off lengthened, the hatred morphed into fear, then into longing, and then, finally, settled into capitulation.

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever witnessed.

Resignedly, almost involuntarily, she brought her arms up and clasped her hands behind her neck in a beguiling posture of total submission. I could not contain myself further and, grabbing her by the nape of her neck, I brought her up to my eye level and claimed her lips, devouring her as if I wanted to melt into her.

After what seemed an eternity, I broke the kiss and, still holding her by the neck, I hissed:

"Who are you, witch?"

She cowered in sheer terror, lowering her gaze and mumbling:

"I am your Slave, Dominus."

The force of my own reaction to that human scared me, and I knew I had to get her out of my sight before my instincts took over. I remembered the words of my Maker: 'Vanquish what challenges you and destroy what you do not comprehend'.

This human was both a challenge and a mystery, yet I did not wish to kill or break her. Not yet. I wished to understand first, but I could not do that in my current state. I needed her out of here, so that I could think.

Releasing my grasp, I declared:

"You are dismissed, Slave."

She stumbled on the floor than stood up gauchely and retreated towards the curtain. With a last whispered 'Dominus', she was gone.


	4. Day 3

**Day Three: The Heart's Desire**

**SPOV**

"Sookie?"

Lafayette's voice brought me out of my reverie, and I dimly realized that he had called my name at least three times. With my eyes still closed, I asked:

"I'm sorry, Lafayette. What was the question?"

I heard him breathe out.

"Sookie, let's take a time out."

He waited for me to open my eyes and look at him with curiosity to continue:

"We're obviously not getting anywhere today, and your hour is almost up; but I'm worried about you, girl. Let's just go and grab lunch, just you and I. I'll clear up my afternoon and we can talk; as _friends_," he offered.

Lafayette, and I had become close during the past year. I often joked that he was being deeply unprofessional by befriending a patient, but he was taking his role as my safety net and personal cheerleader very seriously: he had already taken me from borderline suicidal to mildly depressed, and he was now aiming for 'happy'.

Lafayette waited until we had settled in the French Café that had become our regular haunt to quiz me:

"So, who is he?"

I looked at him, startled, and he raised an eyebrow.

"The way you've been spacing out for the whole hour? It's a man, I'll bet my degree on it."

I chuckled softly and spoke as neutrally as I could:

"He's a Vampire. I don't know his name; he was there the night Finn died: he's the one who knocked me out."

Lafayette was staring at me with wide eyes, and it took him several minutes to regain the power of speech.

"Sookie, what are you trying to accomplish? And do _not_ bullshit me!" he warned.

"Have I been anything but candid, so far?" I replied, angling my head to give him a pointed look. "Frankly, I don't know; not anymore. I had been planning on vengeance; I'd been planning for a kill; but what I've walked into has completely taken me by surprise."

He gave me a heavy look until our plates arrived, then he lowered his eyes and observed somberly:

"You can't survive killing a Vampire, Sookie. You may get away with it for a while, out of sheer luck, but they always track you down and make you pay, eventually."

"I know."

His eyes shot to my face and I could see the hurt etched in them.

"Lafayette, I'm sorry. I… it's not your fault; you've helped me so much… but I need to do this." I paused. "Or I thought I did. I don't know anymore."

We began eating in silence, and I thought for a moment that Lafayette would never forgive me, but he eventually spoke up:

"What made you change your mind?"

I thought about my answer.

"He did. The Vampire did. I don't know why that is but, being around him… I've never felt so vulnerable, yet so alive; and I don't want it to stop."

"Do you blame him for Finn's death?" he asked after a pause.

"He wasn't the one to deal the killing blow, but he didn't help in any way. He just knocked me out and let my son bleed to death. So yes, I blame him."

"And where do you think a relationship, or whatever there is between you two, can go with that kind of baggage?"

"I don't know… it's a mess; I'm a mess, don't you think I know that?" I shot back at him accusingly. "But I need to go back to him. I know I'll end up hating myself for it, but I have to do it."

"Are you gonna try to end him?"

I snorted.

"I couldn't even if I wanted to. He's probably the oldest thing in this city: other Vampires are afraid of him."'

Lafayette nodded and quietly finished his sandwich. Once he had polished off his lunch, he declared:

"Go for it."

I looked at him in astonishment.

"Go for it?"

His gaze never leaving mine, he explained:

"That's what I said, yes. Sookie, there is absolutely nothing I can say or do to dissuade you and, quite frankly, you've been stagnating for months and our sessions have become redundant. I would direct you to another therapist if I thought it would help but, the truth is, the only person who can pull you out of that limbo you've been walling yourself into is yourself. For some reason, you're reacting to this Vampire: he's changing you, changing your outlook, and maybe that's just the jolt you need to jump-start your life again. You're not going to try and kill him, and you've already met him and been in his presence long enough for him to affect you, yet you are still in one piece, so I'm gonna assume that you just _may _have a fighting chance of getting out of this alive. So yeah, go for it."

We stared at each other for a long moment before I grabbed his hand and gave it a grateful squeeze.

"I don't want to die, you know. Not anymore."

"Then let's hope you get to flirt with death and live to tell the tale."

When I got back home, I found a note in my mailbox.

_Club Ocella, 11 p.m._

_Wear no makeup and your hair loose._

_S.-A. L._

I knew what that meant: I'd passed the evaluation process and had been summoned back by The Master. Even with the abrupt way our evening had ended, I had known that he would call me back: there was simply no ignoring the electricity and explosive chemistry between us.

I arrived at _Club O_ as instructed, and was not escorted to the changing room backstage, like yesterday, but instead to a private lodge, where Sophie-Anne was waiting for me. As soon as I had entered the room, she raked her eyes over me and gave me a superior smirk.

"You seem to have made an impression," she remarked, and I looked up at her. "I admit I'm a little disappointed that I won't get to teach you some manners, since you persist on being so _insolent_, but an entertained Master is a good thing for us all."

I said nothing and did not lower my eyes, so she continued:

"Take off your clothes," she ordered. "Your outfit is on the dresser."

I turned back to see a red leather dress sprawled over a wooden chest. It was sleeveless, low-cut and very short but, all things considered, I would probably be the most covered-up Slave in the club. I spun round to face Sophie-Anne and spoke for the first time:

"What about make-up?"

"No make-up. No perfume. Wear your hair up in a bun," she instructed.

I changed into my outfit, hesitating briefly over whether to keep my panties on (a bra was out of question in that dress), but finally chose to discard them: my whities did not go with the outfit and there was no point in modesty. Sophie-Anne then guided me onto the main floor, where there were a few Vampires already, but the real crowd wouldn't be arriving for at least 15 minutes. I followed her to the platform where The Master would be seated and, before leaving me standing in front of the empty throne, she whispered in my ear:

"You're only getting special treatment because he has decided to play with you, for now. Displease him, and your insolent ass is mine."

I shot her a defiant look and saw her smirk arrogantly. She winked at me before disappearing beneath the fringed curtains.

I had been standing there for a short while when I felt the atmosphere in the small space change, and I knew The Master had arrived. He walked up to his throne from behind me, brushing me slightly as he passed me, then sat down. I immediately lowered my eyes, so that his boots were the only thing I could see. A heavy silence stretched between us for a few minutes, as I felt his eyes on me.

"You may see me, Slave."

His deep voice had startled me, and I wavered confusedly for a few seconds, before gingerly raising my eyes.

He was dressed exactly like yesterday, black leather pants and vest, cuffs over his forearms, and a single glove on his right hand. I could now discern that his 'rod' was in fact the woven leather handle of a whip. His body was powerfully built, all strong bones and lean muscles and, when I got to his face, I drew a sharp breath.

He was _beautiful_.

On the two occasions I had seen him before, it had never actually occurred to me to make an aesthetic appraisal of his features. I had noticed the coldness of his eyes, the cruelty of the curve of his lips, and the sharpness of his bones and, last night, I had been too overwhelmed by his intense stare to actually take in his face; but now that I looked at him, _really_ looked at him, it was plain to me that he was the most gorgeous man I had ever seen. His eyes seemed somehow warmer today, but his general demeanor was just as aloof.

We stared at each other, and I was proud of myself that I did not cower but steadily held his gaze. After a few seconds, I felt a pressure at the back of my mind, and knew he was attempting to glamour me. When I remained still, he stopped his efforts but made no comment, and his expression did not change. Finally, he gestured for me to come closer.

I walked up to him and stopped a foot from his throne.

"Kneel," he ordered.

I obeyed the command and joined my hands behind my neck in submission. Our eyes never left each other and the tension between us grew exponentially. I had to refrain from reaching out to touch him as, this close to him, the combination of the heady scent of his leathers and the sexual charisma he oozed from every pore, was driving me wild. His effect on me was no longer crippling, as it had been yesterday, but what I had lost in anxiety, I had gained in lust.

His nostrils suddenly flared and I knew he had smelled my arousal. His own eyes became clouded with lust and he slowly reached for his fly with one hand and lowered his zipper. My heartbeat hiked up and my temperature rose as he took hold of his cock and casually exposed himself to me. He was already semi-erect, and his size was impressive but, when he stroked himself, once, in a deliberate motion of his gloved hand, he became fully hard. He then rested his hand at the base of his shaft, and waited.

I could not take my eyes away from his perfect member, which was pressing against his stomach. The glossy leather of his glove contrasted beautifully with his pale skin and, at that instant, I badly wanted to taste him; but I waited for the order to be issued. When nothing came, I tore my eyes away from his cock to look up at him. His face was impassive as his gaze bored into me.

The standoff lasted for few moments, then he transferred his whip from his right to his left hand and weaved his now free gloved hand into my hair. His grasp was harsh, and I could feel him pulling at my roots, but I did not whimper. Slowly, he drew my head towards his crotch, only stopping when my face was only one inch away from his length. I bit back the impulse to close the last of the distance: I wanted him to be the one to ask; I wanted to hear him express his need. After a pause, my patience was rewarded.

"Pleasure me, Slave," he commanded in a husky voice.

I smiled to myself and extended my tongue to leisurely lick at the skin I could reach, once. Then I raised my eyes and gave him an amused smirk. He growled slightly and jerked my head closer to him so that I was now in position to fully access his cock. I unhesitatingly wrapped my lips around the head and lowered myself on his shaft. He did not taste salty, like other men, but had an indefinable flavor that wasn't unpleasant, but rather unexpected. I began bobbing my head up and down, as much as his tight grasp allowed, twisting my tongue around his girth, hollowing my cheeks to deepen the suction, and moaning slightly to create vibrations.

I increased my tempo when his hips bucked and his clutch became painful in my hair. After a few more ministrations, he came into my mouth with a low groan. I kept sucking him while he rode his orgasm and, when the last of the tremor had subsided and his grasp had loosened, I pulled out and waited for him to look down. When our eyes made contact, I made a show of swallowing his pleasure and then, after licking my upper lip, I mouthed: 'Fuck You'.

**EPOV**

I stared at the enigmatic blonde below me in stunned shock. Did she just silently tell me to fuck myself?

She was sporting a smug grin, as if she had been the one who had just received a splendid blowjob. Her lips and tongue had worked magic around my cock, and I had felt electricity coursing through my body as she sucked, licked and blew expertly. Even now, I could feel my cock harden again as I replayed the scene in my mind. She looked beautiful: slightly flushed and dishevelled, but otherwise fresh and sexy. This was an oddity: very few women who crossed the club's doors could ever be called 'fresh' and none of them ever got to service me and keep their dignity. Yet, this human seemed to be able to sustain humiliation and degradation and come out of the experience with her head held high.

She was observing me with an expression that said 'I had _you_' and, while I secretly admired her spirit, I knew I needed to take her down a peg or two to show her exactly who was Master. I ordered her to kneel at the side of my throne and summoned Sophie-Anne. The red-haired female appeared a second later and nodded when I demanded she bring me the three best female Slaves in the room. When they were led in, I made the impertinent human watch as they pleasured me in the same manner as she had done minutes before, one after the other. While the Slaves fellated me, she was the only thing on my mind, but my display had the desired effect of leaving her crestfallen and insecure.

When the last of the Slaves had been dismissed, I tucked myself in and waited a few moments before speaking.

"What is your name?" I asked.

"My name is Slave, Dominus," she replied in a cowed voice, her eyes drawn to the floor.

"I meant your real name," I clarified.

She hesitated a long time, but finally answered in a choked voice:

"Sookie Stackhouse."

The name immediately rang a bell, but it took me a minute to place it: she was the human woman who had given me so much trouble a year ago; the one who had found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had lost a son as a result. I laughed mirthlessly.

"That explains a lot."

I demanded she raise her head to get another good look at her. It was no wonder I hadn't recognised her, as her face had been covered in blood and distorted in pain back in the alley. I recalled the intoxicating scent of her blood, and how it had been a challenge not to drain her on the spot, but instead to knock her out and glamour a human into dropping her and her son at a hospital.

"Have you come to seek revenge?" I asked.

She swallowed audibly as tears began pouring down her cheeks.

"I have come to take the life I am owed," she replied unsteadily.

"You will fail. And you will die," I stated.

"I would have succeeded, if you had not intervened," she said. "And death means nothing to me."

I puzzled over her words, until understanding dawned on me.

"You went after Longshadow, didn't you?" I observed. "That was what the red wig was about."

After a pause, I added:

"You may be right. Longshadow is a fool when it comes to humans, and you could have outsmarted him. But then, I would have had to hunt you down; and I am _no_ fool."

She did not respond and merely glared at me, no doubt awaiting her death. Now that her mystery had been figured out, I only had the 'vanquishing' part left to implement but, for some unknown reason, I felt the urge to spare her.

"You may leave," I heard myself declare. "Go, and never come back. If you are ever spotted again within a block of _Club O_, your life will be forfeit."

She watched me with astonishment as I delivered my lenient sentence, and I have to admit I was as surprised as she was.

She rose hesitantly then backed down towards the curtains. After a last, unreadable look, she exited the platform.


	5. Day 4

**Day Four: The Deep End**

**SPOV**

The next morning, I called in sick to work. I hadn't been able to sleep all night, as I had been haunted by visions and thoughts of The Master.

I knew I should have felt relieved that, despite the fact that my plans for exacting revenge had failed, I had at least gotten away with my life; but the prospect of never seeing _him_ again was tormenting me. I felt deep guilt for being more concerned about The Master than about my son's death not being avenged, but I had no control over my spiraling emotions. At around 9 a.m., I finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

I was unceremoniously woken up a few hours later by the sound of my phone. It was Lafayette, who had called to check if I was still alive (he didn't say so, but we both knew it). Hearing his concerned voice made me break down and I tearfully told him everything that had happened over the past three nights. When I ended my tale, he stayed quiet for some long minutes, before saying resignedly:

"You're going back, aren't you?"

"I have to!" I sobbed. "Oh God, Lafayette; what is wrong with me?"

"For what it's worth, Sookie, I don't think he will kill you," he declared after a pause.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't fully explain it but, based on what you've told me, his behavior isn't consistent with that of a predator. He's had many opportunities to hurt you, and last night you gave him a reason to kill you; yet, he has not. Instead, he has pushed you away both times and, from the way I see it, he was protecting you. I don't think he wants to hurt you, and I don't think he really wants you to go away either. Whatever effect he has on you, I think you have the same on him."

"Am I a terrible person, Lafayette? How could I want somebody who is partly responsible for my son's death? And in these degrading conditions? What is wrong with me?" I choked.

"You're a flawed human being, Sookie, like the rest of us. You're allowed that. I don't know what to say about your attraction to the Vampire, really. It isn't wholesome, and it isn't healthy; but wholesome and healthy haven't been doing much for you these past few months. It's the first time I've seen you come out of your shell and be pro-active since I started treating you; and maybe you need to explore this. Maybe this is the closure you've been seeking."

I chewed on my lips as I shed the last of my tears and reflected on Lafayette's words.

"Thank you," I simply said.

"Sookie… please be careful," he pleaded in a thin voice.

"Goodbye, Lafayette," I replied, before putting the receiver down.

Lafayette and I both knew that, whatever happened tonight, we wouldn't be talking again. I took a deep breath and slowly drifted off to sleep. Now that I had taken the decision to return to _Club O_, I felt peaceful.

I woke up after dark and began my preparations. Contrary to my usual custom, I did not go into Finn's room: everything I would do tonight would be a betrayal of his memory, and I couldn't face my guilt. I took a long shower, then looked in my closet to select my outfit (since I was not expected there, I doubted I would find a costume waiting for me).

The Master liked red, so I selected a crimson silk and chiffon babydoll dress with a plunging halter neck. It was a rather naïve choice for _Club O_, but it was the best I had. I sat in front of my vanity table and carefully pinned my hair up, then slipped on ballet flats and a coat, and left.

I arrived at _Club O_ at around midnight and, for the first time, I came in through the main entrance. As soon as I had entered the noisy and smoky bar, I dropped my coat in the cloakroom and made a beeline for the Red Door. I looked up at the bouncer who was barring the way and whispered the password I had used on the Casting Call night. After leering at me, he shifted to the side to allow me entrance. I discarded my shoes and stepped in.

Ignoring the stares of the Vampire patrons, I rushed towards the platform, but Sophie-Anne suddenly appeared in front of me, obstructing my passage as I was nearing my destination.

"What are you doing here?" she snarled with bared fangs. "You have been banned!"

She was about to drag me to God knows what stinking basement but halted in mid-motion. She turned her head slightly to the side, as if listening to something, then lowered her arm. Glaring at me nastily, she spat with a scowl:

"The Master demands your presence."

I didn't wait for her to escort me and closed the last few feet separating me from my heart's desire. When I parted the curtains, I found The Master seated on his throne, as usual. He was staring at me with an unreadable expression, yet I could swear he seemed… excited. As I carefully approached him, he looked as if he was holding his breath, which was absurd: Vampires do not breathe. I didn't stop until I was standing between his knees, then I raised my arms and linked them behind my neck. We exchanged a long look and he whispered:

"You came back."

I thought I detected something close to joy in his eyes, and I felt tears pool in my own. The Master circled my waist with his long arms and bent forwards to rest his forehead on my stomach. I was amazed by such an unexpected display of affection, and lowered my arms to run my fingers through his hair. It was silky, thick and smooth, and I lost myself in the sensation. I felt his hands reach up to untie the knot of my halter neck, then slither down to open the zipper of my dress. Soon, the garment was pooled at my feet and, since I had not bothered with underwear, I stood naked in front of him. He raked his eyes all over my body, his hands tracing the spots his eyes roamed over. I shivered when he flicked my nipples and thrust forward when he caressed the curve of my hips. His cold touch was rendering my body feverish with need, and I pulled his head to my breasts. I trembled as he sucked on a nipple, then the other, as his hands were cupping and stroking my ass.

He leaned back and, with one hand, he gestured to me to raise a leg and position my knee on his thigh. My new posture was giving him full access to my sex, and he slid his gloved hand over my hip and down to my inner thigh. I hissed when the glossy leather made contact with my wet lips, and he began teasing and probing with long fingers. I let out a low moan when his thumb found my clit, and swayed my hips as I impaled myself deeper on his fingers. I protested when he pulled out his digits but he hushed me and took hold of his whip, which he had placed over his lap. He gently brushed the leather handle against the skin of my inner thigh until it reached my sex, then coated the tip with my arousal. Once the extremity was slick with moisture, he rubbed it over my lips until my muscles relaxed.

Inch by inch, he buried the shaft inside me, until the last of the lubricated leather had disappeared between my thighs, and his closed fist was sealing my entrance. I moaned as he began a pumping motion, the woven leather creating delicious frictions against my walls. I leaned forward to stabilize myself on the armrest of his throne, as my leg started to give, and I cupped his cheek with my other hand. Our faces were only inches apart and I closed the distance to claim his lips in a passionate kiss. As he kept ravishing me with his whip, our lips and tongues were locked into a pagan trance.

I fiercely clutched his neck as I violently came, my cries of pleasure muffled by our kiss. I lay panting against him, until he slowly slid the handle out of my sex and took me in his arms for a tender embrace. I remained seated on his lap for a little while, my eyes closed, savoring the moment; then he wordlessly stood up, holding me in a princess hold, and carried me out of the club.

The cold air of the night hit me like a slap and I snuggled closer to The Master. He mounted his large Harley and positioned me so that I was straddling his lap, facing him. He covered my shoulders with a thick leather jacket and felt instantly warmer. He started the engine with a roar and we went off into the night at a breakneck speed. About 15 minutes later, he came to a halt in front of what looked like a factory. He swept me up and carried me into the building and down an industrial elevator until we reached a pitch-black sub-level. When he turned on the lights, I saw that we were in a large open-plan loft space, with untreated walls and concrete beams all through the floor. The place was filled with contemporary furniture and the color scheme seemed to be grey, silver and brown. Despite the relative austerity of his lair, I felt instantly comfortable.

He put me down on the huge fur throw that was covering his bed and lay on his side next to me. As he was leisurely caressing my body, I began undressing him. His vest was the first thing to go, then his cuffs and, after he had kicked off his boots, I pulled off his pants. I couldn't help the gasp of admiration that escaped my lisp as I took in his naked body for the first time: he was beautiful all over; his entire body sculpted and carved to Raphaelian perfection. I pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips before bending down and placing butterfly kisses all over his chest.

I noticed that he was still wearing his glove so I extended my arm to take his hand, but he abruptly recoiled from my touch. I looked at him in puzzlement and, after some hesitation, he lowered his hand to within my reach and allowed me to peel off the leather. What I saw when the glove was off shocked me: The Master was missing his index and middle finger, which had been severed at the base, and had started laboriously growing from the stumps. The only reason I hadn't noticed his impairment before was because his gloves had been outfitted with prosthetic phalanges. I looked up at him, but his face was expressionless.

"Dominus?" I whispered.

"The latest lesson from my Maker," he explained gravely.

"What was the point of that lesson, Dominus?" I inquired.

"There was no point. The lesson was simply that he could do to me as he wished."

"I am so sorry, Dominus," I said, cupping his cheek.

He laughed in a sinister fashion and spun me onto my back. Hovering above me, he roughly gripped my wrists and held my arms above my head.

"Do not be," he declared, "it was a valuable lesson; and one you will learn soon enough."

"What do you mean, Dominus?" I asked tersely.

He bent over and whispered into my ear:

"Why do you think I have brought you back to my lair? Why do I feel like I can trust you with my resting place? I have told you: I am no fool. Do you really think I will let you leave this place alive?"

My whole body froze at his words then I began struggling against his hold in a futile attempt to free myself. He leaned back and eyed me with a cold stare. Gone were the tenderness and warmth from earlier. When I gave up thrashing around, he spoke:

"Why the sudden revolt? I thought death meant nothing to you?" he taunted.

"Please," I wept. "I beg you, Dominus."

"I cannot let you leave," he stated flatly. "I almost lost you yesterday, when I foolishly released you, but I now know what you are."

Curiosity got the upper hand of my despair, and I couldn't resist asking between sobs:

"What am I?"

"You are the one meant to be my child," he replied.

I looked at him with wild eyes as he continued:

"I have often wondered what impulse drove me to spare you that night in the alley, why I even bothered to have you transported to a hospital; and then you came back to me, months later, and again I felt the impulse to leave you unhurt when I should have crushed you. After you left last night, I mulled over my inexplicable behavior, until I finally understood." He paused. "What I feel towards you is The Pull. I was not able to kill because, deep down, I knew I was meant to turn you."

"Please, Dominus, I don't want to become a Vampire," I pleaded.

"Oh, but you do," he declared in a low voice. "Nobody comes through the doors of _Club O_ that does not seek death. You told me you were owed a life; well, yes you are indeed. But the life that must be taken isn't Longshadow's or mine, it is yours."

I violently shook my head in protest.

"That's not true! I sought vengeance, not death! I hate you so much..."

"Is that so?" he asked. "Then why did you come back and offer yourself to me? I had warned you your life would be forfeit, and yet you returned and laid your existence at my feet. Tell me, Sookie, when was the last time you felt as I make you feel? When was the last time you desired as you desire me? The truth is that you too feel The Pull, and you have responded to it by coming to me tonight."

His words were tearing me apart and yet, as hard as I fought, I could only see the truth in them. I had come back to him, driven by an unstoppable attraction, hoping for closure, for an end… for death. I had sought him because I couldn't ignore his lure, and I knew he would grant my deadly wish with a flourish. Death by Vampire: a sublime way to go. And now, he was offering me even more than I had hoped: an eternity at his side.

Could I really become what had killed my son? Could I haunt the shadows and come to enjoy it? Could I even be good at it?

All of my instincts screamed 'yes' to those three questions, and I conceded defeat: I had lost the battle of wills against The Master. He sensed my submission and let go of my wrists.

We quietly looked at each other for a long moment, then he shifted our bodies so that I was seated astride his lap. As he kissed me, I lost myself in his embrace, allowing my grief and hurt to flow within my soul until they were undistinguishable from the lust that was soaring through me. As his hands fondled my body, I felt his cock push into me and I groaned in pain as he stretched me to my limits. When he began to move, the pain was progressively replaced with thrilling pleasure, and I swung my hips to meet his thrusts.

As I was nearing my climax, our eyes met and he gave me one last meaningful look before sinking his fangs into my neck. I cried out in pleasure as he drew more and more of my blood. I felt myself growing weaker and my last conscious thought, before I blacked out, was of my son.

_Forgive me Finn; I chose the shadows._


End file.
